After getting transferring in Tena via a bus from Baños, Ecuador, I arrived in Misahuallí, with the temperature and humidity doubled. Stepping off the bus, a good foot taller and several shades paler than the rest of the occupants, here was the gateway to the Amazon. Only one problem though – I had no accommodation, no guide, zero wilderness survival skills, and no plan. Luckily, a wizened older local stopped to talk and welcomed me to Misahuallí. He asked where I was from, what I was doing, and what I needed. We walked around the town, checking each hotel for space, and upon finding a room for myself, went to find a guide. After a short search, for 100$, I obtained a 3 day/2 night venture, with the first day a trek through the Amazon, and the second tubing down the river, as well as a visit to a local indigenous community and staying with the guide’s family in their village. As someone who would perish immediately if lost in the wilderness alone, this was going to be an adventure.
Farcero and I set out the following morning. As he gathered supplies from his house, I noticed one in particular. As the Amazon has no trails, one needs a machete to cut through vines, webs, kill small animals for sustenance, and keep snakes at bay. So we set off, one local and one very out of place, sunburned, foreigner.
Trekking through the Amazon isn’t like hiking back home. For starters, everything can kill you. Farcero made this very clear as we would pass various brightly-colored bugs and plants. “That?” he looked over. “That’s 24 hours. Slow. And next to it, that beetle. Quicker, a few hours. And just to our right, about an hour”. Laughing the whole time. No way would I have survived on my own. Another time, as thousands of ants scurry underfoot, he pulls off to a tree and waves me over. Sticking the machete into the bark, he pulls it out and jams the blade in my face. “You know what a bullet ant is, right?”. And yes, right in front of my face, the animal with the most painful sting in the entire world. Farcero is laughing. My bowels nearly void themselves. I push the blade away, telling him I did know, but didn’t want one so close. And all those ants underfoot? The same.
Other aspects of the Amazon are quite cool, with a knowledgable guide. Farcero stuck his machete into what looked like an encrusted tuber, but opened it up, and it was a cacao pod. We snacked on the purest form of chocolate as he described survival techniques. As I was applying the hundredth layer of bug spray, Farcero jammed his machete into a termite nest for his own supply. If you let the termites run down your arm and rub them into your skin, they release menthol, which acts as a natural bug repellant. For once, it helped to smell like a pack of Newports. We ferried streams, I nearly fell in multiple times. In another section, it started to rain, but due to the canopy, not much fell through. One occurrence, due to the the rain turning the ground into mud, we had to scramble up a slope. After trying to grab a branch to steady myself, two brightly-colored problems came into view. Two very large, very poisonous spiders on either side on my head. “Emm, Farcero, can you get the machete?”. Needless to say, I didn’t die.
After we had trekked for some time, we stopped for some typical Amazonian cuisine. Baloney sandwiches. Yes, all over the world. We discussed life and living in the jungle. He preferred the quiet and isolation, I said I could not. Cushy offices don’t exactly lend well to outdoor survival skills. Farcero had served in the military and was a licensed guide. He lamented the lack of educational opportunities in these small villages, the bereft of well-paying work, and the absence of young people. The government was starting initiatives to provide employment and studies, but this was not to occur in the near future. Work paid sporadically, and although intelligent and well-connected, tours were completely random. He offered Ayahuasca nights as well, and showed non-hallucinogenic aspects of the ceremony.
After day 1 of not dying in the jungle had been completed, we set back off to his family’s house. To my luck, none of them spoke spanish – only kichwa, the indigenous tongue. And this is in no way related to spanish. Yet again, our conversations took place as a long-form game of charades. With only an outdoor shower and water tank, chickens and other small animals running amok, and a lack of doors, my third floor walk-up it was not. But this is all part of the fun – being able to live, if only briefly, in the same manor as an indigenous tribe in the Amazon. Fascinating, to say the least.
The following day, we headed off for another hike and tubing in the Amazon River. True to form, Farcero filled me in on all things deadly. “You’ll be fine. The anacondas are under water and only come out at night, the caimans are by the banks, and the piranhas won’t trouble you if you don’t cut yourself”. Excellent. We tubed in two blow-up tires, tied together by a length of rope, and paddled down the river. Hitting rapids and drops, the freezing cold water gave a sense of being alive. Since everything around could kill you. With all the foresight, I had brought my daypack, with wallet, phone, and passport inside dry bags. This was nearly for naught after almost capsizing after going over a rapid. I can only imagine how fun the call to the Embassy and to work would be, explaining an extended stay on the basis that my passport went overboard in the Amazon.
After finishing tubing, we docked the floats and went ashore to a local kichwa village. There, we watched women pan for gold. A few flakes would net them enough for shopping for goods at a nearby market. However, this work means bending over for hours at a time every day in the riverbank, sifting through rocks and the stream in hopes of a minor profit. Most of the older women suffered from back problems as well as poor posture. As some of the villagers only spoke their native language, Farcero translated. We watched the process of making a local drink and dish from the Yucca plant, common in the jungle. We were also brought local tools to test them out. I shot a ten-foot blow dart gun and failed miserably. Difficult to aim and even harder to balance, each shot was well off target. The darts themselves are coated with the venomous skin of the poison dart frog, and shot at small game for food. It was repeated how quickly I would die in the jungle. After that, Farcero and I conversed with a local about village life. It turned out that he had fought with FARC, or the Colombian Armed Revolutionary Forces. Slipping over the border, he spent a year fighting in the jungles due to believing in their cause. Once the armistice had been signed, he left and headed back to the village, where we met. It’s interesting to converse with mercenaries about their motivations and experiences. His was no different. For the sake of privacy, names have been withheld.
All things considered, the venture down into the Amazon was enlightening. Completely out of my comfort zone, and for a small price, the ability to experience a few wonders of the jungle and indigenous life was worth every cent. Head down to Misahuallí and ask for Farcero; the locals will know for whom you seek. Also look out for the monkeys that envelop the town. They bite.
Dispatches by Alec 